


Fight or Flight

by musicalenchantment



Category: From Beyond (1986), Would You Rather (2012)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Shep is a sadist but lowkey so is reader?, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalenchantment/pseuds/musicalenchantment
Summary: "So you’re in need of an experiment, run off the books?”You nod. “It’s the only way I can truly test for and record accurate responses.”Shepard Lambrick stands from his seat and turns away, looking out over the expanse of dark trees and California countryside, and this time you’re certain you’ve run him off. Your ideas are a disaster that will get your medical license revoked before you can ever obtain it. You’ll be the laughing stock of the program, banished from medical school--“My dear,” he says as he turns, interrupting your panicked thoughts with a smile that twists upwards from beneath his mustache.“I believe I can help you.”~You're Dr. Katherine McMichaels' protégé with some interesting ideas about fear and the psychology surrounding it. Enter Mr. Shepard Lambrick, the benefactor of your dreams.
Relationships: Shepard Lambrick/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

> There are not enough writings with Shepard and that is a _shame_. (Either that or I'm in need of some serious psychological help for wanting more.) So I thought I'd remedy that after watching 'Would You Rather?' recently and finding myself unable to pry my eyes away from Jeffrey Combs chewing the scenery.
> 
> I guess this could also be considered a 'From Beyond' AU as well... I just love seeing Jeff and Barbara together in everything so having them as old colleagues made sense to me.
> 
> Story will be updated with applicable warnings and tags as we get deeper in. Buckle up and enjoy the ride!

For all the time you’ve spent in academia presenting on your thesis and expanding upon scientific ideas, somehow parties like the one you were currently standing in the middle of tended to throw you for a loop. It wasn’t the simple act of speaking to others that made unease curl in your gut, but the mingling, the _small talk_. You’d asked if you could be permitted to skip this outrageous affair, but your mentor had advised against it.

She did have a point after all - who else would be loose enough with their money to support your research other than wealthy socialites with nothing better to do? 

So here you stand, in a room full of people you don’t know, doing your best to smile and make yourself seem approachable. Fortunately the host has provided free champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and you're taking full advantage of it, leaning gently into the liquid courage the small amount of alcohol provides you on your nearly empty stomach. You tip your champagne flute upwards to catch the last lingering droplets at the bottom, managing to catch the eye of a server with a fresh platter coming from the other room.

“Another?” he asks and you nod, offering your emptied champagne flute to him before taking another fresh glass.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Your lips curl up into a smile as he steps away to address another small group of people, leaving you to your devices yet again. 

The champagne is chill under your fingertips, urging you to press the glass to your lips. You chance a small sip; you really ought to pace yourself. As much as you’d like to be getting refreshingly tipsy to counteract this dull gathering, you _are_ technically here for a reason. 

"Ah! There she is!" 

Your head turns in time to see your professor headed your way with an older gentleman in a dark gray pressed suit in tow behind her. Of course - here comes yet another potential donor. Perhaps this man will be the one to finally invest in your future instead of turning you away with a polite excuse after you reveal the extent to which you would like to test your theories. 

You lower your glass, pasting a cordial smile onto your face.

"Hello," you greet them both, eyes connecting with Dr. Katherine McMichaels, the petite blonde advising you as you venture ever closer to your doctorate.

"This is the student I was telling you about—" Katherine breaks off her sentence to glance at you and beam with pride. And why shouldn't she? You’re one of her best students, abundant with plentiful ideas in the world of abnormal and fear based psychology, not to mention the fact that you originated from the good doctor’s alma mater; Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts. 

She pulls your attention to the man next to her. “This is our host, Mr. Shepard Lambrick. He’s on our board of directors and hosts this little get-together every year… how long has it been now, Shep? 10 years?”

“Twelve,” he replies pleasantly, if not with a twinge of arrogance in his voice. A beat passes amongst the three of you before you jump in, nervously leaning in to speak to Shepard.

"I hope she hasn't put me on too high a pedestal... I’m liable to fall off.” 

You know you have a bad habit of turning to humor to cover your anxiety, prompting you on occasion to put your foot in your mouth. Fortunately he must find it endearing because he smiles, his mustache curling at the ends.

"Nonsense,” your mentor waves you off with a smile. "You have plenty of accolades to be proud of and share. It's not every day I get a new doctoral candidate entering into my program with as bright a mind as yours.”

“Well, thank you, Katherine,” you reply, gifting her a generous smile. Your attention focuses yet again on the man next to you, who you find examining you rather intently. “I hope you find my accomplishments exciting as well, Mr. Lambrick.”

“Please,” He extends a hand in your direction. “Call me Shep.”

You take his proffered hand and shake it, noting how smooth and warm his palm is against yours. This is a man who probably hasn’t done a day of hard labor in his life.

“Shep,” you repeat, testing his name on your tongue, committing it to memory. “Wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

Shepard nods in return. “And I yours.” 

He keeps your gaze a moment longer than necessary, during which you finally get a good look at him: brown hair that is silvering at the temples, tanned skin lightly kissed by the California sun (or perhaps a tanning bed), piercing green eyes, and a smile hidden beneath that mustache that suggests he has not only caught the canary but he’s eaten it as part of a four-course meal as well.

To top it off, the suit he wears is a perfect fit - charcoal gray with a dark navy striped shirt beneath that is left open at the neck. A silver paisley printed pocket square completes the look, bringing out the silver in his hair and the expensive watch on his right wrist.

When you finally pull your hand away, you realize a gentle flush has crept up the back of your neck and has surely collected in the tips of your ears judging by how they’re burning. The look he’s settled on you has caused a low churn of excitement to begin in your belly and while part of you is telling you to run, for some reason you find you want nothing more than to stay under his gaze for the near future.

Almost as though on cue, Katherine clears her throat. “Well, now that you two have been introduced, let me get out of your hair and you can talk.” She glances at Shepard and gives him a gentle squeeze on his bicep. “Great to see you again, Shep.” Katherine’s head nods in your direction. “I think you’ll like this one.”

Shepard chuckles, tucking his right hand into his pocket. “From the stories you tell, I already do.” Those dark eyes of his land on you once more and you raise your eyebrows in jest. 

“Don’t tie her up too long, I have a few other people I’d like to introduce her to yet,” she teases at Shepard before tossing you a wink and flitting off to speak with another group of her colleagues. With Katherine gone, however, you feel defenseless, exposed, and now fully under Shepard’s examination.

“How long have you known Katherine?” You ask, taking a sip of your champagne. You’re glad you’d gotten another glass - the weight of it in your hand grounds you. 

“Oh… far too long.” Shepard glances at Katherine’s retreating figure before he lands back on you. He takes the opportunity to scan his eyes over your body, taking in your professional knee-length skirt, modest heels and imitation silk button-down blouse. “She and I have mutual colleagues from Miskatonic University.”

“No kidding? I got my bachelors and masters there.” You grin, feeling that perhaps luck is in your favor this evening after all. Even if nothing else goes right speaking with Shepard, at least you have one mutual thing you can fall back on as a conversational safety net.

“Yes, she mentioned that. Part of the reason I was so hoping to meet you.” Shepard’s lips twist into yet another cloying smile. 

“I do have a fondness for that old school. There are many bright young minds it tends to produce. Tell me, what is your area of expertise? Katherine started to explain, but…” he pauses, a pointed look directed your way. “I like to hear it from the source. Passion for one’s work is so hard to come by these days outside of academia. It’s refreshing when I stumble across it.”

“Well,” you pause, taking in a breath. There is a sudden movement of people around you two, and Shepard steps forward into your space to get out of the way. He is now standing close enough to you that you can catch a faint whiff of his cologne. The richness of it causes your brain to falter a moment and your eyes search the room for something to jump-start it again. “I— It’s difficult to explain concisely. And amongst others.”

“Perhaps we should find a place to sit?” He looks as unperturbed as he possibly can as he says this, almost lazily offering the suggestion up. “I have all the time in the world.”

“Oh— yes, that would be wonderful.” The idea is like a life-preserver in the ocean of social unease that you’re currently swimming in. You hope Shepard doesn’t pick up on that tone in your voice too easily.

“Through there. Should be quiet enough.” Shepard raises his glass of champagne, pointing at the open French doors just across the room, leading to the balcony that overlooks the grounds in the front of the elegant, spacious craftsman home.

You take the lead, eager for the space and grateful for the gentle breeze that meets you and cools your cheeks as you cross the threshold. You step up to the railing that surrounds the deck, taking in the sway of the trees and the crispness of the night that settles around the two of you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You look over your shoulder at Shepard as he strides toward you, confident and slow, and grin.

“Yes. I don’t get out of the city often enough.”

He stops beside you and looks out over the tops of the trees, down into the valley where city lights twinkle just out of reach. “There’s a tradeoff for convenience, but it does soothe one’s soul to be among nature.” 

The two of you stand there for a moment, enjoying the fresh air. You’re wrapped up in your own thoughts to the point where it takes you by surprise when you feel Shep’s hand on the small of your back and he’s looking at you like he’s just asked you a question you missed, directing with his other hand to the small seating area just to your right.

“Shall we?”

“Oh! Yes,” you smile in apology, stepping forward and settling yourself in one of the chairs overlooking the valley. The area has warm, intimate lighting that has been brought out from the house to help accommodate conversation and you notice off-handedly that it flatters your host quite well. “I’m sorry. The mind wanders occasionally... you know how it can be.”

“Of course. I imagine you’ve got more thoughts up there than many of us dare to.” Shep chuckles as he sits perpendicular to you, turning his body so he can focus on you fully. “Katherine tells me that you have some intriguing ideas about fear.”

“Fear is what keeps our ego in check,” you say with a wry smile, raising your glass to sip at your champagne. “It’s the very thing that keeps us from doing the unthinkable… to ourselves or others.” 

“Surely fear isn’t the only thing that has kept my colleagues’ checkbooks closed to you this evening,” Shepard replies, and it’s then that you know there’s something different about this man. Something intriguing. It makes you like him more than you did just moments ago. “When does the other shoe drop and I find out why you’re the black sheep of Dr. McMichaels’ program?”

“Am I?” You stare him down, eyebrow raised as though this is news to you. 

Of course it isn’t. Fortunately for you, Katherine had some interesting theories of her own about schizophrenia back when she was a fledgling doctor and has been open to your ideas about experimentation. She must have known getting you to speak with Shep would be your ticket. 

That thought makes a shiver run down your spine. Suddenly your entire perspective of the man before you has shifted with the possibility.

Shepard openly laughs this time, the sound causing you to chuckle as well. His laugh is warm with a cutting edge that sounds dangerous. “She has a knack for bringing the outliers to me... but for good reason.”

He takes a sip of his champagne and fixes you with those piercing green eyes again, examining your reaction further in the glow of the light. “Modern science is too careful these days. There isn’t enough…” he searches for the word, rubbing the pads of his fingers together as he reaches.

“Unpredictability?” You offer.

_“Danger.”_

The way he says it makes your stomach flutter, but this time it isn’t anxiety. Shepard practically purrs the word, and the sound has settled into your lower body, simultaneously flushing your cheeks once more.

“So you do know more than you let on.” You raise your glass to your lips once more, your eyes meeting his over the rim.

“Yes,” Shepard smiles in return, all teeth. He tilts his head in your direction. “But I would like to hear it from you.”

“Well,” you begin, excitement bubbling up from within you. “As I’m sure you know, fear is an emotional response to stimuli that can take on physiological and behavioral changes in the body. Some people freeze, some run - the fight or flight response. I have been studying the effects of extreme fear on the mind. How do people cope? What is the long term psychological residue left behind when someone is faced with insurmountable fear and survival? With death right before their very eyes? How does that change a person?”

Shep nods to indicate he’s listening and absorbing this information. He has a glint in his eyes that you can’t quite read, but you’re sure if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, you’d find that same light behind your own eyes.

“There are only so many ways to study this phenomena safely… and that’s where I’m hitting a roadblock.” You sigh, looking down at the glass in your hands. “As you said, modern science is lacking in real-life application and experimentation in this area. It’s a safety hazard - people can’t be put in danger. But I don’t have enough research that isn’t decades old by now.”

The man across from you is silent, which you did and didn’t expect after your prior conversation. A cold feeling of dread spreads slowly through your chest as you wait for him to reject you as the other beneficiaries have, but instead he quirks an eyebrow.

“So you’re in need of an experiment, run off the books?”

You nod. “It’s the only way I can truly test for and record accurate responses.”

Shepard Lambrick stands from his seat and turns away, looking out over the expanse of dark trees and California countryside, and this time you’re certain you’ve run him off. Your ideas are a disaster that will get your medical license revoked before you can ever obtain it. You’ll be the laughing stock of the program, banished from medical school--

“My dear,” he says as he turns, interrupting your panicked thoughts with a smile twisting upwards from beneath his mustache. 

“I believe I can help you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me for any OOC messes or overly vague writing that occurred here, I'm just a lowly amateur writer with very specific tastes that haven't been written yet.
> 
> Would you like to chat? Have some gentle suggestions for me? Come visit me at musicalenchantment on tumblr or retrau.teur on instagram - I guarantee more Jeff BS on both platforms. :)


End file.
